He bowed, and went,
without another word, on his way to the village.
For a minute or more I stood and watched him, walking farther and
farther away from me; carrying farther and farther away with him what I
now firmly believed to be the clue of which I was in search. He turned,
after walking on a little way, and looked back. Seeing me still standing
at the place where we had parted, he stopped, as if doubting whether I
might not wish to speak to him again. There was no time for me to reason
out my own situation--to remind myself that I was losing my opportunity,
at what might be the turning point of my life, and all to flatter
nothing more important than my own self-esteem! There was only time to
call him back first, and to think afterwards. I suspect I am one of the
rashest of existing men. I called him back--and then I said to myself,
"Now there is no help for it. I must tell him the truth!"
He retraced his steps directly. I advanced along the road to meet him.
"Mr. Jennings," I said. "I have not treated you quite fairly. My
interest in tracing Mr. Candy's lost recollection is not the interest of
recovering the Moonstone. A serious personal matter is at the bottom
of my visit to Yorkshire.
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